Autograph
by Badmitton
Summary: Lee is sick of his job as an actor for the Ember Island Players, but that doesn't mean he isn't pleased to sign his first autograph.


Lee gratefully pulled the black wig from his head and, sighing, scratched his stubbled head. The wig felt like it was made out of pig bristles and was situated so that he could barely see through the bangs.

"That's the point" the director had told him. "You're supposed to be _blind_. Be the part. _Feel _the part." Then, with a flourish of his hands he had scurried off to fix some detail or another. Lee remembered suppressing the urge to scream after him in a mocking imitation of "echolocation."

_Who am I kidding?_ he thought, sinking onto an ottoman in his tiny closet of a dressing room. _This career is a bust_. Any of his relatives could have told him years ago that acting was a terrible idea, but what was he supposed to do? He was the only non-bender in a long line of illustrious firebenders, and, as tempting as it was to spend his days ploughing the fields, art spoke to him as something meaningful.

He looked down at his massive hands and arms, cursing them for their clumsiness.

_If only I could paint_.

But no, as a last desperate run from despair and hard labor, he had auditioned for a part in the Ember Island Players' newest play and had gotten the part of a dangerous criminal, a blind yet immensely powerful earthbender.

_I auditioned for the firelord..._ he grumbled to himself, hearing in his head his aged grandmother screeching at him for dishonoring himself and the family by even _thinking_ about the squalor that is earthbending.

_Whatever_, he thought, _it pays the bills_. The thought of his tiny paycheck sent a shudder through him and he put his head down in his hands, his huge shoulders straining the tan and green costume fabric.

A small but persistent knock startled him, and, wiping his nose, he lumbered the few steps across the room and opened the door.

"What?" he said gruffly, expecting the manager to complain about his latest failure of a performance. He began to say something else, but was startled by the mysterious lack of a person in the doorway.

"Down here," a voice said, and he felt a tugging on the fabric at his knee. He looked down and saw a tiny girl, no older than thirteen, grinning hugely and clutching a play program in one hand. He leaned over to look at her.

She was dirty and skinny, and her black hair stuck out at odd angles as if she had hastily yanked it out of an up-do. She carried a white stick and he noticed she was blind.

"I just have to say," she beamed "I think you did a _fantastic_ job!" Lee opened his mouth to say something but was stopped when the girl's stick lashed out and hit him across the nose as she threw her arms into the air in excitement.

"Oops."

Lee grabbed the stick and yanked it out of her hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He dropped it soon after, however, for the stick was sticky and oozing, as if the bark had only recently been cut from the wood.

"Watch what you're doing with that" he cried, his face still smarting.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged noncommittally and stepped into his dressing room, completely oblivious to the stick he was holding out for her. She tripped over it.

"Oops." This time, Lee said it.

The whole room shook as the girl hit the floor, the stones rattling as the floor seemed to gently catch her. Lee rubbed his eyes and blinked.

"Did you see... erm... did you notice that?"

"What? Oh yeah, weird." She rolled over and stuck her feet straight out in front of her and leaned on her hands. "You must have pretty bad foundations." Out of the corner of his eye, Lee thought he saw a stone squiggle back into its place in the wall. He whipped around to stare at it, but it didn't budge. He shook his head.

"Look, kid, whaddya want?" he said gruffly, picking her up by the back of her shirt and hoisting her up to sit on the tiny coffee table in the center of the room. She squeaked as her feet left the floor and quickly pulled them up to rest on the top of the wooden table.

"I want," she paused to shake a piece of hair out of her eyes, "your autograph." she held out the crumpled program. "And, by the way, you did a great job tonight. The sonic wave thing? Sweet. Your character has to be my biggest role model!"

"Your role model is a dangerous criminal?"

"Hey, don't hate! Just sign."

Sighing, Lee scribbled his name on the program, feeling a reluctant twinge of elation as he signed his first autograph. As soon as he was done she snatched it from him and grinned.

"What'd you write?"

"Uh... my name."

"Help me write 'Toph'"

"Why... okay."

He put the quill in her hand and guided it through the calligraphy. It was sloppy but legible.

"There."

She held the paper out and grinned again, jumping down from the table and landing with a pound against the ground

"Thanks," she said, still smiling, running for the door. Miraculously, the door opened by itself, squealing on its metal hinges. Lee's mouth dropped.

"Kid," he shouted after her, "What's your name?"

She pivoted, her grin widening to shark proportions. She pointed silently to the program with the autographs before dashing away.

He started to go after her as she laughed down the hallway, but he knew that he would never catch her.

* * *

Ta daa! R & R, luvvies


End file.
